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"Okay, okay," Eamon mumbled quietly before stepping inside with others. The interior of the hole was covered in thick branches, obscuring their view of anything else except for a faint reddish glow. Their brows scrunched together, trying to decipher where the faint red glow came from. They continued creeping through the tunnel, following the slight glow until it faded and they could no longer hear it. After a few moments of silence, they continued cautiously down the tunnel until they finally reached a fork in the path.

[Difficulty Level: SSS]

[Difficulty level increased due to the path you choose]

The tunnel ended abruptly, as if it had been severed from the earth itself, its path suddenly blocked by a smooth, unyielding wall of stone. The cold, damp air of the tunnel gave way to a strange stillness, the silence pressing down on everything like a weight. At the end of the passage, the stone wall, smooth yet slightly weathered by time, formed an unexpected boundary. For a moment, it seemed as if the tunnel had no purpose—no reason for existing at all. Then, as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, the truth became clear: this was no simple wall.

It was the threshold to something far more ancient. They took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly before cautiously approaching the wall. Their hearts began to beat faster and faster as they drew closer, but the wall remained perfectly still, even though their heartbeat should have been pounding in their ears by now. They took one final step toward the threshold, almost there. Then, without warning, they felt their bodies being yanked forward. As the floor dropped out from under their feet, they found themselves plunging into darkness. Their screams never escaped their lips. They quickly grabbed hold of the side of the rock wall, and after a few seconds, when their vision cleared, they realized they were in a chamber—a very large room.

Slowly, they took a step into the space, and the corridor expanded into a vast, circular chamber, its edges disappearing into the dark beyond. The chamber wasn't large in the sense of being cavernous, but the air within felt impossibly vast, as if the very shape of the place had been designed to amplify the sense of isolation. The walls were perfectly round, their curvature impossibly smooth, as if carved by some unseen hand with a precision that defied nature. There were no seams, no joins—only the seamless sweep of stone that created the illusion of endlessness.

The stone walls bore ancient, faded murals—now almost imperceptible. Some resembled archaic runes, while others displayed intricate patterns that seemed to ripple with a forgotten language. Elowen whispered, barely audible, to the sensitive ear, though their meanings had long been lost. The murals told a tale of an ancient world—one steeped in mysticism, solar worship, and the cosmic forces of nature. They weren't just images; they were stories, layered with meaning, woven together like threads in an old tapestry, waiting to be interpreted.

The murals stretched across the walls, their shapes intertwining with the natural curves of the chamber. Some were bold and clear, their lines sharp and crisp, while others had begun to blur and fade, as if time itself had tried to erase them. Yet even in their worn state, they pulsed with a strange energy, as if the stone still held the memory of what was once vivid and powerful. They stepped forward and began to read them.

The First Mural: The Creation of the World:

The first mural were positioned at the base of the chamber's walls, near the floor, where the stone was still relatively intact. They depicted the Creation—the moment when the world was born, shaped by cosmic forces.

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In the center of one panel, a massive sun dominated the scene, its rays radiating outward in a burst of energy. But the sun was not just a sphere of fire; it was a personified deity, its form crowned by rays that twisted into intricate, almost organic shapes. The figure seemed to hold both power and sadness in its gaze, as though it was both the creator and the sacrificed. Beneath this radiant figure, two smaller gods—one with the features of the sea, long serpentine waves curling around its body, and the other a celestial being with the delicate outline of the moon—were seen kneeling before the sun. They offered gifts to the deity: water, in the form of curling waves, and light, in the form of star-like sparks.

Elowen stood before the mural, her wide eyes fixed on the intricate scene as if she could see something hidden beneath its surface. Eamon noticed the intensity in her gaze and, unable to contain his curiosity, asked, "Can you read it?"

She nodded slowly, her voice soft but filled with awe. "This... this is the creation. The birth of the world itself."

Kael frowned, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the details. The scene seemed almost alive to him, the figures etched into the stone vibrating with energy. "It looked like the sun was alive," he said slowly, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and wariness. "Like it was a god or something. And those other two figures—the sea and moon gods—were offering something to it. Water and light?"

Eamon moved closer, his fingers brushing against the cold stone as he tried to decipher its meaning. There was something unsettling about the image, a tension in the way the figures were arranged. "There’s something strange about it, though," he murmured. "It felt like the sun... it wasn’t just giving life. It seemed like it was also taking something away, like it demanded a price."

Kael nodded in agreement. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "The way the sun's face looked—powerful, but sad... as if it knew there was something it had to give up, but it did it anyway. Almost like it was resigned to it." He crossed his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene once more.

Elowen, who had been studying the mural intently, gave a small, knowing nod. Her voice was gentle, yet sure. "Exactly. The sun wasn’t just creating. It was sacrificing too. You could see it in the way its rays were twisted, almost like they were part of the sacrifice—organic, mixed with the very essence of life. And the sea god..." She trailed off for a moment, her eyes lingering on the figure. "You could tell it was desperate. Its body formed these long, curling waves, but it was kneeling to the sun as though it was bound by some unseen force."

Kael’s eyes moved to the moon god, his expression pensive. "And what about the moon? It looked so fragile. Like it was the one that held the most delicate light. Why would it offer its light here?" His voice was filled with confusion, as though trying to understand a piece of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

Elowen took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the faint lines of the moon god’s image. "The moon’s offering was light, but it was so small, so faint compared to the sun. It was like it was giving all it had left to the sun, knowing it might not get anything back. The gifts—the water, the light—felt like they were offered in desperation, like they had no choice but to give." Her voice softened, the weight of her words heavy in the stillness of the room. "The rhyme beneath the mural... it warned of a price that was hidden, one that wasn’t seen at first. That price might have been the reason the gods were forgotten in the end."

_"At the heart of the sun, the first spark did gleam,

In the cradle of light, where the gods once did dream.

But the gift they did give, with a price left unseen,

Now lies in the hands of the stone guardians' scheme."_

They read the rhyme etched beneath the mural. The words seemed to echo in the air, as if the very chamber was resonating with them.

Balthazar, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke in his voice uneasy. "And what did the guardians have to do with all this? The stone guardians? They must have been part of the price too, right?"

Elowen’s gaze shifted toward the stone guardians depicted in the background, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized their presence. They stood silent, ever watchful, their stone eyes seeming to follow them. "I think so," she said, her tone darkening. "The guardians were the ones who held whatever was given—what the gods lost, what they gave up for creation." She paused, her voice taking on a warning edge. "This room, these murals, they were warning us. It was a cycle that started with creation, but the gods’ bargain—this... this ‘price’—wasn't over. It was still binding them, and it was still binding this place."

A deep silence hung between them as the weight of her words settled over the group. Kael felt a shiver creep down his spine, the air in the chamber growing heavier. Elowen's voice grew softer, almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in her words. "We had to be careful."

When they studied this scene, there was a sense of harmony and balance, yet also tension. The gods offered their gifts, but there was an undertone of desperation—a hint that the gift-giving was not entirely voluntary, but part of a covenant or sacrifice. It felt like a fragile balance, as though the power being shared could just as easily be taken away.